


Lost in Thought

by CrimsonSun27



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Introspection, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonSun27/pseuds/CrimsonSun27
Summary: After the events of Chapter 7, the leader of the Pigmask Army takes a moment to reflect.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Lost in Thought

The commander rarely needed rest. At least, not until he fought that kid and his friends back at the temple.

It was a never ending battle, but surprisingly ended with his defeat at the hands of a child who could barely master his own abilities.

In all of his life he had never been defeated. And even if he did, his Master wouldn’t allow him to, lest he would want to get punished for disobeying his orders. So why wasn't he the victor?

It was then that he had remembered the very moment he first laid eyes on the enemy. It was just like the Pigmasks back at the tower had described: a young boy, a teenage girl, a middle aged man, and a dog. But upon further analysis, he began to realize the reason why he had been so hesitant in fighting him. 

Alone in his chambers, he began to silently walk towards the mirror near his rather well kept bed, taking off his helmet and placing it ever so gently on the drawer beside it before looking directly at his reflection. 

And just as he predicted, staring back at him was an exact mirror copy of the boy he had met and fought, although there were some minor deviations. Mostly due to the cybernetic crimson left eye and the buster cannon that used to be his left arm.

But the most obvious and standalone difference was the bright sunflower yellow hair brushed and combed neatly on top of his head, a color that honestly doesn’t go so well with the ensemble he constantly wore, hence the need for something to cover up his face.

However, he found himself taking it off in his lone time, as if a part of him didn’t want to forget what he truly was, human, despite his many attempts to diminish said fact. 

Feeling disgusted by the weak, childish reflection in front of him, he reached over to the drawer and grabbed the helmet. But once again, he hesitated, the feeling of desperation refusing to back down. 

And so he gave in and placed it back before looking directly back at the stranger standing in front of him.

“Who are you?”


End file.
